


little green monsters and littler green men

by orphan_account



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics), Harley Quinn (Comics)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Domestic, F/F, Jealousy, past performance is not a predictor of future results
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-16
Updated: 2016-03-16
Packaged: 2018-05-27 00:40:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6262606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pam just wants Harley to be happy, and she hates things, and people, that prevent that from being the case.</p>
            </blockquote>





	little green monsters and littler green men

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to explore a little of their dynamic and project angst onto my favs to avoid my actual emotions, yayy fanfic.

“It’s like he’s a genius, a mad scientist,” she rambled on. Harley lifted white hand, nails decorated with black diamonds on red polish, and ran it through her currently very messy hair of a similar color scheme. Ivy crossed her arms, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth, no doubt leaving it as red as half of Harl’s hair.

 

Harley stared at the television, or rather looked at it as if she wasn’t really seeing it at all, but was rather staring through it into a fixed point outside of her current timespace. Ivy didn’t have to wonder much to infer that her girlfriend was reflecting on the years of her life spent with the lime-haired man currently depicted, cackling and bloodied, probably by the Batman, on the tv screen. 

 

Ivy felt the little green monster at work, gnawing at the base of her skull, permeating her thoughts with the desire to disconnect the set, to punch it with brute strength she might not have, to throw it out the window and watch it fall, watch the heavy out-of-date thing crush the hood of some poor schmuck’s old red car with peeling paint a few stories below, to erase every trace of the Joker’s existence from the four walls, from the building. Instead, she inhaled.

 

God, his hair. Every aspect of the creature- Ivy didn’t want to flatter him with the title of a man- gave a startling spark in Ivy’s belly, an ignition that burned a desire to punch him in the face, kick him in the teeth, knee him to the ground until he was sorry, much like Harley had done. But his hair was the worst. It was green, and once Harley had made an offhand joke about having a thing for those donned in the particular color, and Ivy couldn’t help but want to burn every green thing on earth until it was red fire and black ash, claw the green parts of her skin red and bloody, disassociate herself from anything ever having to do with the evil cackling maniac that had crushed her petal’s spirits. 

 

It was an unnatural color, she tried to say to comfort herself. It was- it was toxic, not pure and full of life like the green of the plants she grew around Harley’s apartment. 

 

Ivy smiled, thinking of the plants then. The way Harley’s eyes lit up whenever new ones sprouted, the way she seemed so happy to have a little piece of her Pam in her home with her… 

 

Ivy released her lip with her teeth, giving a passing gaze around the room at the small potted plants not yet big enough for hanging baskets that basked in the early morning sun that just barely crept in through the filthy windowpane- Harley really needed to learn to wash them, but she wouldn’t, she would never, Pam would do it for her, and Ivy would be so so happy to do it-

 

She glanced back at the couch. 

 

Harley lifted one arm to grab the remote from the coffee table in front of the tv, switching it off. Ivy had finally convinced her to get a semblance of a respectable living space in order, lest she just be surrounded by dog droppings and plywood, so the small oak table sat in front of the cushy sofa on a brown shag rug. Harley often liked to run her feet on the surface, a change in texture from the hard floors of the rest of her apartment, while she admired her toenail polish- Ivy smiled down at her own leaf-patterned toenails, currently covered in tube socks anyway, that she had let Harley paint last night. 

 

When she looked back up, Harley had pulled the throw blanket from the back of the couch over her body, where it hung half-off her form, feet curled up and tucked under her bare thighs, not resting on the rug or the table, and trailed off on the floor. 

 

Harley sniffled gently, and Pam, concerned, plodded her way over to the couch, plopping on the cushion next to Harley. 

 

Pam reached a hand to caress Harley’s pale cheek, brushing a curtain of hair out of her face that come loose from her pigtail, tucking it behind her hair, though it took a couple motions. 

“Harl?” She asked tentatively. 

 

“Pam-a-lamb,” Harley started, voice cracking. “I-I…” She either didn’t know what to say, or didn’t know how to say it, and reached up to wipe a tear from her eye, sniffled, as Pam consoled her by rubbing light circle between her shoulderblades. 

 

“I’m just a big dumb stupid dummy, aren’t I?” She wailed, leaning forward to place her face in her hands. Ivy, for the moment, kept quiet- but this was less the observation of a specimen in the lab and more an observation of something much more tenuous, much more precious, and briefly, she wonders when anything or anyone became more important than her work. 

 

“He tricked me, Pammy. And I fell for it. He… he made me….” Harley doesn’t raise her head, but she doesn’t go on either, and the shaking, silent sobs stop under the ritualistic ministrations of Ivy’s palm on her back. 

 

“Shh, it’s okay now. I’m not the therapist here, Harls,” she said, tossing out one of their inside jokes to lighten Harley’s mood, as the clown girl usually preferred to look on the blindingly bright side of life. “But… Harley. I’m here for you. You can talk to me, yeah? And he’s not going to get you, not ever again. You made sure of that.” She poked Harley in the side sharply, emphasizing her next words. “You. Nobody else. You’re the strongest person I know, Harls. You might not believe me right now, but it’s still true. I promise.”

 

Harley hiccuped, raising her head. She turned to Ivy and blinked owlishly, eyes ringed with red, and Ivy leaned forward to kiss her softly on the nose. “I got you now, okay? You’re so strong. You know that. He’ll never hurt you ever again.” 

She didn't need to say “I’ll never let him,” because Harley could- would- handle it herself, again, if it ever came to that, though Ivy would convert to every religion there was just to pray that it never did. She didn’t need to say “It’s terrifying me how much I would do for you,” because she got the feeling Harley already knew. It was spoken in every kiss, every hand on a shoulder, every motion that allowed one of them to get close enough to stick a knife in the other’s back, a knife that never came. 

 

Instead of words, Ivy leaned in again, pressing her soft glossy lips to Harley’s open, eager chapped mouth. 

  
“Mine,” Ivy growled roughly, earning an eager whimper from the other woman. Ivy bit at Harley’s bottom lip, and Harley moaned breathily. Ivy ran a hand under Harley’s loose shirt, cupping one of her breasts through her bra, and she knew, that at least for a moment, she could make Harley forget about the past. And if she needed help later, Ivy would be right by her side, hands entwined like vines, to face the future head-on with her, past be damned. 


End file.
